


The Black Paladins - Domestic Edition

by EsorValia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Humor, M/M, this is just a silly drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 18:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19234861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EsorValia/pseuds/EsorValia
Summary: There stood Shiro, grey eyes like steel, staring him down with an intensity that had him swallow. He had a beer in each hand, both bottles near empty.





	The Black Paladins - Domestic Edition

There’s nothing like seeing Hunk brandishing a massive wrench at the last guy to trek mud into his house to put the fear of wearing shoes inside in everyone’s heart. 

Keith gets it, he does. The cleanup sucks. You don’t know where those shoes have been or what they’ve picked up. It’s the same policy at his place, only he would never have this many guests. 

It’s a whole shoe depot up front. Shoes piled on top of more shoes, the various colors and styles tugged off haphazardly wherever room was available. 

You could get a read of the people inside, like Allura, whose glittering heels could be seen tucked neatly to one side, or Lance, who sent his shoes flying willy-nilly before running inside to tackle his childhood friend. 

Hunk’s probably used to it with all the parties he hosts, but man... Keith shakes his head. 

A big pile like this was a sign of good company apparently. Hunk once described it as ‘that rush of warmth at knowing someone’s home’, which was infinitely more poetic than he was capable of being at the moment. Faced with such a sight, all that comes to the forefront of Keith’s brain is, “This is a fire hazard.” 

That, and “Where the fuck are my shoes?” 

Keith parked himself down on the hardwood step leading into Hunk’s house, forearms resting on his thighs as he put all his focus into scanning each pair of shoes on the floor. He was…pretty sure he had worn red sneakers to get here. Red was an easy color to spot, so why, he was questioning with an increasing amount of irritation, could he not find his shoes? 

It was getting late. He and Shiro had plans for tomorrow: Krolia was coming over to visit in the morning. 

Had Keith still been living on his own, his mom would’ve just walked in to see him eating cereal from a mug in his boxers and ask for a cup without batting an eye. Now that he lived with Shiro though, likely out of some misplaced fear of his future mother-in-law, Shiro was adamant that they at least give off the appearance of being functional adults by cleaning every surface in the apartment and organizing drawers that hadn’t seen the light of day in months. Keith had reassured him that she honestly would not care what the place looked like so long as they were happy, healthy, and had a roof over their heads. 

This did not appease Shiro.

First impressions were important, he’d insisted, not-so-subtly closing out 6 tabs on **Good Housecleaning Tips** and **How to impress visiting mother-in-law**. Honestly he didn't have to bother on that account. Krolia already adored him and she doesn't warm up to people easily. 

When Keith reminds him that his first impression of him was the time he stole his car for a joyride, Shiro had pouted, looking all of the 7-year-old that he secretly was. Cute. 

Still, he knew she could be intimidating, so to help Shiro relax he dragged him out to one of Hunk's monthly get-together's. 

A glimpse of red draws him back to the present, only to turn out to be an old pair of red pump heels in size 8 hidden behind some black combat boots. Conveniently his size. Favorite color too. If he didn’t find those sneakers soon, he was about to just say fuck it and smash his feet right in. 

Nope, no, calm down. He straightened his back, took in a deep breath, and blew it out slowly. Patience yields focus. He was the designated driver. Shiro was counting on him to make it home safely. He pat his coat pockets to make sure the keys were there, heard a reassuring jangle, and went back to scanning the floor. 

Seriously though, did some people just go home barefoot or what? How can one place have so many shoes. 

If someone opened the front door right then and there, Keith imagined he could convincingly morph into some surly 16th century street peddler and offer their guest a new pair of loafers from Ye Olde Space Mall. It wouldn’t be too different from what he does as the co-DM of their Monsters and Mana group. 

Shiro should be joining him any second now. The last he saw of him, Shiro was cleaning up a few unattended beer bottles for Hunk. His fiancé really was an angel... He’s got the face for it too. Maybe he’d magic his shoes from out of nowhere, just beam that wonderful smile of his and Keith’s shoes would automatically be on his feet. That seems like something Shiro could do. Oh, or a wink. A wink was good too. Keith could almost hear the sparkling sound effect that would accompany that wink in his head. He checks his feet just in case annnd nope, still just his favorite pair of generic black socks. 

It was worth a try. 

A cool draft was coming in from underneath the door, slowly making his toes grow numb. Still, it was pleasant in a way, a nice contrast to the warmth in his belly and against his back from the ongoing party. Laughter, music, and the distant buzz of conversation blended together to form a nice backdrop of sound. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but it was nice coming out from time to time, especially when he and Shiro finally had a week off together.

***

“—hello, Keith.” 

A cold, almost mechanical voice sounded from behind him, jolting him out of his thoughts. He quickly spun around, dread pooling in his stomach. 

He knew that voice, has only ever heard it under three conditions. 

One, a lack of sleep from being overworked. Shiro entered a so-called ‘Robot Mode’ by his co-workers that was spoken of in awed hushed tones. He would get eerily efficient, getting the job done no matter what it took, self-care be damned. Then, like clockwork, once he got home, he’d eat, wash up, peck Keith on the cheek, and promptly crash where he stood. Not always in that order. Keith has had to carry him to bed more times than he can count. 

Two, every time he’s forced to interact with Helicopter Parent from Hell Haggar (real name Honerva). That poor son of hers had to file a restraining order against her. Shiro’s considering one himself after all the times she’s called him for updates on her son’s performance. 

And three, happening in real time, when his fiancé forgets how bad his alcohol tolerance is. 

There stood Shiro, grey eyes like steel, staring him down with an intensity that had him swallow. He had a beer in each hand, both bottles near empty. 

Was it his third drink? Fourth drink? Keith couldn’t even find a pair of shoes, math was beyond him at the moment. Still, he could handle this. Shiro just had one drink too many and was acting like The Terminator. These things just happen. It’s fine. 

“Shiro, it’s gonna be okay.” 

“Yes, I know.” Without taking his eyes off of Keith, the man finished both beers off and smoothly set the bottles down on the hallway table. The grace of an angel, even when drunk. 

“I just had one drink. I’ll drive slow. We just have to get back to the car.” 

He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys, holding them up in one hand placatingly just as Shiro took a firm step towards him. 

“We, are not going anywhere!” And suddenly Shiro was lunging towards him with a raised hand, bare feet slamming against hardwood floor. 

_Shit, shit, shit. He’s aiming for the keys!_ Keith dove to the side in the nick of time, catching himself with one hand on the floor before leaping past Shiro. Shiro barreled into the door, prosthetic denting the wood frame. Someone had to have heard that. If that someone was Hunk so help them all.

Without even noticing, Shiro just spins on his heel and throws himself forward with all the force of a hurricane, determined to get those keys away. He can’t let him take it. Shiro wasn’t fit to drive right now. He probably thinks Keith’s the drunk one and so needs to take responsibility instead. His lovable idiot. 

He weaved past every swipe of Shiro’s hands, at one point flipping over the man’s shoulders and landing like a pro gymnast. 

“Shiro, I know you’re in there...!” He pleads when Shiro stumbles on a rug, meeting his eyes with a stoic gaze.

Before he can continue, his fiancé answers him with an inexplicably Swedish accent, “My name is not Shiro.” 

After a beat where Keith just squints at him in confusion, Shiro giggles before continuing his onslaught. 

In the end, his socks are his undoing. 

One misplaced step has him slip, landing on his tailbone with a painful thump. He winces as a shadow stands over him, and then quickly throws his hands up to grapple with Shiro hand-to-hand. Shiro had the advantage over him, slowly pressing him down until his head was just over the hardwood step of the entrance, right above the abyss. 

“Shiro, please… They don’t have enough guest rooms here… We can’t…overstay our welcome…!” 

It didn’t seem to be getting through to him. Shiro’s fingertips were nearly to the keys. 

This was it, his last resort. Words he’s shown through every action, sent via text and letters, but was too embarrassed to say out loud. 

With all the strength he has left, Keith cries, “...I love you!!” 

Shiro’s eyes widen, a glimmer of his real self showing through. He seems to have an internal struggle before gritting his teeth and doubling down on his attempt to prioritize their safety. 

“Just...let go, Keith. You don’t have to fight anymore. By now, the team’s already gone home. _I saw to it myself_.”

Keith called upon his last reserves and yelled, throwing the keys past Shiro’s prosthetic into the kitchen. 

The yell seemed to snap Shiro out of it. He looked at Keith with horror and trepidation before his eyes rolled up and sent the full weight of his body crashing down. Keith caught him easily, getting the breath knocked out of him. 

And soon they were falling, shoes scattering everywhere. The hall light was blinding, making everything go white. 

It’s okay.

If they must go, they’ll go together. 

He tightens his hold around Shiro and closes his eyes, head falling back, cushioned on the arch of well-worn clogs. 

 

***

 

“Wow.” 

“Mmmhm.”

“Just… wow.” 

Pidge finally stopped recording the scene from where she sat on the couch and stared impassively at their two collapsed co-DMs snoring away in front of the entrance. Beside her, wearing a similar expression, Matt took a long sip from his glass, sitting prim and proper like some newly-widowed heiress. 

“That was…something.” 

Matt nods. “Yeah… Shiro’s always been a lightweight. It figures Keith is too.” 

“Keith had _one_ drink.”

“A 32-ounce glass doesn’t count as one drink, Katie. Not everyone has the Holt family tolerance.”

“Hmph. Shiro was on what… 3? 2.5?” 

“Your guess is as good as mine.” 

Pidge hummed in response, replaying the end part of Shiro and Keith’s little…skirmish. If it weren’t for the circumstances in which the fight took place, she’d be pretty impressed at their battle prowess. 

The next second, something important occurred to her.

“Weren’t you the one who drove them here?”

“YEP.” Matt popped the P. He never pops the P. Someone was getting blackmailed tonight. 

“So what Keith threw was…”

Hunk popped his head into the room, wiping his hands on a dishrag. “Hey guys, I found this under the kitchen table. Any idea who it belongs to? It’s pretty cute.” 

The Holt siblings study the keychain Hunk holds up. Sure enough, there’s a pair of cutesy wolf and bunny head charms attached to it.

“Their house keys.” Matt answers dryly.

“ _Wow_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Shiro, wobbling as he circles to every member of their MnM group: "Make sure you get home safe okay. Have you seen Keith? My amazing fiance? He's beautiful and I love him." 
> 
> The team: Okay Shiro, we know Shiro. 
> 
> Hunk: this is my fucking house
> 
>  
> 
> **Happy Sheithversary! I hope you enjoyed this nonsense. =v=**
> 
>  
> 
> **Here's hoping I can do a more serious fic by the next Sheith holiday.**


End file.
